


mourn, mourn (what else can you do?)

by PilotStudios



Series: Franky's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Month [6]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Crying, Gen, Grief/Mourning, talking to a grave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:49:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28993209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PilotStudios/pseuds/PilotStudios
Summary: After his return to Water 7, Franky takes the time to mourn.
Relationships: Franky & Tom (One Piece)
Series: Franky's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Month [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013526
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	mourn, mourn (what else can you do?)

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 19 (broken hearts) of whumptober. find it on tumblr [here](https://flimflamfranky.tumblr.com/post/632447003951038464/day-19-broken-hearts)!

Franky had missed the funeral.

Which– of course he had. He had been lost at sea, on an abandoned ship, turning himself into a cyborg so he wouldn’t _die_. And he only ended up there because he had been trying to stop them from taking Mr. Tom, and he definitely didn’t regret that. He regretted a lot from that day, but not that.

Still. He felt bad for missing it.

Kokoro had told him what they had done, she and Iceburg. It had been a small thing, of course, the traditional funeral by boat, but still. Iceburg hadn’t mentioned it, but then, Franky hadn’t even seen him since their only talk o his first night back. Which, was for the best, he knew - they both had to be careful, with the blueprints at stake.

Kokoro, at least, told him where the memorial was.

It was on Scrap Island, of course. The company building had been their home, but they all had spent most of their time on that island. Collecting material, building ships - Franky’s fondest memories were on that island.

He meandered his way through, taking a look around. It was different, of course – that was the nature of Scrap Island – but it feels familiar regardless. It was almost nostalgic, and he had to swallow down a thick well of emotions. He pushed on, making his way to the coast, where Kokoro had said the memorial was.

It didn’t take him long to find it – a model of the sea train, a-fixed with a plaque. It stuck out like a sore thumb, refined and polished amongst the trash. The wood was high quality, and Franky worried, for a moment, that someone would want to take it. But then he laughed - that was exactly what Mr. Tom would want.

He made his way over, and that was when he noticed the other memorial, right next to it and– it was for him. He came to a grinding halt when he read his name, surprise socking a gasp right out of him. He supposed, numbly, that it shouldn’t be surprising – everyone thought he had died, after all – but he didn’t think that anyone would– no, he didn’t want to finish that thought. Kokoro hadn’t mentioned it, in any case.

It was a model of his first Battle Franky, expertly carved and detailed, with a plaque that said ‘Cutty Flam’. Beneath his name was ‘Tom’s Workers’ and beneath that, in precise and neat letters, ‘Beloved Brother and Son.’

Franky had to clench his fists to stop himself from destroying it.

He ignored it, instead, trying to get a grip on his twisting emotions, and turned to Tom’s memorial. The sea train was just as expertly carved. He reached out a hand, and ran his finger along its wheels, taking in the decorations on the windows, the detailed cogs and gears. Each detail brought back the memory of building it, the blood, sweats, and laughs – the way Tom looked so happy, even after failure after failure, because he was building his _dream_.

His dream ship…

Franky snapped his hand back, and looked down to the plaque, feeling shaken. The plaque has Tom written on it, of course, and the company name, but it also had a lengthy description – who Tom was, and how he and his workers built the train that saved Water 7. It made no mention of the last trial, or that he built Roger’s ship.

Franky frowned when he noticed that – Tom had been damn proud of that! His memorial should absolutely mention that! But he, reluctantly, understood – better to be safe than sorry.

Man, he hated being cautious.

And there was nothing he could do about it, unless he wanted to vandalize the thing, which felt– wrong. He couldn’t do that.

Instead, he sat down in front of it, legs crossed. He sighed.

“Hey…Mr. Tom.”

Franky scratched his chin awkwardly. It felt weird, but this was why people visit graves, right? To talk, get some closure, or whatever. It was why he came down here.

So, he powered through. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. Becoming a cyborg, ain’t easy, I’ll tell ya that. Wish I could show ya what I’ve done, I bet you’d be real impressed.”

He picked at the metal beneath, easily making small grooves with his enhanced strength. “I’m…sorry for a lot of things, actually. I’m sure you don’t need me to list everything, but…yeah.”

Franky shook his head, scowling. “Man, that’s depressing. Focus on the happy. Uh, I’m thinkin’ about starting a gang, or something. There’re still a lotta down-trodden folks around here. Figured I could help ‘em out, maybe give ‘em a job, get ‘em on their feet. Haven’t thought out what, yet, exactly, but I figured that’s what you’d want me to do. Make this a better place, and whatnot.”

Franky looked up at the sky. “I’m thinkin’…dismantlers, maybe. I’m good at that and it’s not build-“

Franky cut himself, and frowned. Tom wouldn’t want to hear him say that. “It’s easy to teach,” he said instead, swallowing. “Or maybe even bounty hunting. There’re still loads of pirates around here, causing trouble. And I’m super strong now, too. Not as strong as you were, of course, but…”

Franky trailed off, gazing up at the sky. He closed his eyes, and sighed, drawing up his legs to rest his chin on his knees.

“I’m just…tryin’ to be like you, I guess. It’d be better if it was you. You did so much for this town, and for m-me,” his voices stuttered and he had to take a deep breath. He buried his head in his arms.

“I’m such a fraud. I’m no good at this fixin’ stuff. I’ll just destroy everything, like always.”

He was silent for a moment. Then, “I jus’…wanna carry on your dream a-and,” his voice wavered again, and this time, he let it break. “I- I can’t jus’ let it die with you…”

He was crying, now, tears and snot running down his face as his breathing shuddered in his chest. He couldn’t stop it either - he tried but it’ was just too much, and he had to let it run its course.

He felt pathetic, curled up and sobbing like this in broad day-light, but…Tom never judged him for it, not like his no-good parents had. He never shouted or told him to be a man - Tom had only ever been gentle and understanding. And Franky did feel better, by the time his tears finally dried.

Huh. Maybe there was something to this whole crying thing.

He wiped at his eyes and cleaned off his sunglasses, and then stood up. He faced the memorial one last time. It shined in the sun, almost gleaming, like a treasure. Behind it, the ocean lapped against the metal shore, and in the distance, the sea train chugged on, doing what it had been built to do.

“I’m…I’m gonna do my best for this place. Make sure your dream comes true,” Franky said to the model train. “And hopefully…that’ll be enough. I’ll talk to you later, I guess.”

And then, he turned, and left.


End file.
